


don't fall in love with me

by decidueye



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Communication, Other, Pining, Self-Esteem Issues, mental health recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 04:17:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16803466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decidueye/pseuds/decidueye
Summary: “Don’t fall in love with me.”Of all the things that Bokuto could ask Keiji for, this was the worst; there was no way that they could keep that promise.





	don't fall in love with me

**Author's Note:**

> the closest i get to angst is having characters take a realistically long time to deal with their mental health issues. thank you to robin for the beta, and for being by my side through a recovery that makes me want to write these things!

"Don't fall in love with me!"

It's the first thing that Bokuto says to Keiji that isn't directed at the first years as a whole, when he catches them staring after a particularly powerful spike. Anyone would stare, really - Bokuto Koutarou is talented, hindered only by his own lack of attention and self esteem - and he means it as a joke, but it hits a little too close to home for Keiji, new to the team and to their sexuality. Bokuto is so  _ pleased _ by the attention that Keiji rankles, pursing their lips as they search for a retort sharp enough to hide the blush dusting their cheeks.

"Unlikely. You're overcompensating with strength - I can see it in the swing of your shoulders. I'll only swoon if you can actually look where you're spiking."

Their response is enough to make Bokuto’s shoulders drop several inches, and Keiji finds half a dozen pairs of eyes glaring at them for their assault to his ego.

“He’ll be done for the rest of practice, now,” one of the third years comments with a tired disdain that makes Keiji almost as defensive as Bokuto had initially. Bokuto doesn’t miss the comment, either - Keiji sees him flinch even as he hangs his head, examining the tendons of his wrist without intent. “And even worse off for being benched.”

“Of course he will be, if you dismiss him like that.” Keiji is surprised by the force in their own voice, and they make sure to keep their words polite in spite of the ice behind them. People are staring, and they’re too new to this team to make a bad impression. They focus on Bokuto instead - there, at least, they can make amends. “Bokuto-san, if you’d like to improve your focus, perhaps I can toss to you?”

Bokuto pounces upon the offer with a vice-like grip, and Keiji finds themself persuaded to stay for an extra hour after everyone else has left. They accept their trial with only a little reluctance - they would be foolish to turn down the opportunity to toss for a senior, after all, and it's not as if they mind being given a  _ reason _ to stare.

They practice straights. Bokuto insists he’s sick of the crosses he’s been told to do, and that he’s got a better idea, if he can just prove himself. Keiji does their best to help, and their honest criticism - combined with the fact they’re one of the few who takes Bokuto’s plan seriously - brings them closer together. Late practice becomes a regular occurrence, and Keiji finds themself shifting their cram school schedule to fit it in. They’re nervous to ask their parents about it, but surprisingly Keiji’s mother has no objections.

“It’s okay to spend extra time on something that makes you happy,” she tells them with a smile. “I trust you to keep your grades up.”

They  _ are _ happy, though they’d never stopped to think of it that way before. How much of that has to do with volleyball specifically, Keiji doesn’t know. They enjoy the game, of course, and bonding with their teammates has made practice less gruelling, but what gives them the most satisfaction is Bokuto’s cheer after a successful spike; or how when he’s in top form, Bokuto radiates a warmth that Keiji can’t help but bask in.

*

They’re not the only one. This isn’t the first time a girl has waited outside the school gate for Bokuto to be done with practice - a long time, and everyone knows it, so you have to be dedicated if you want to confess to him - but it’s the first time Keiji lingers, invasively hidden but within earshot, to hear the exchange. She is in Keiji’s year, but not in their class, and she is polite and adorable as she offers an envelope with her feelings.

“I’m gonna take this and treasure it, if that’s okay, but I can’t answer your feelings,” Bokuto says. He sounds surprisingly mature, for all the blushing and laughing he does whenever his teammates talk about girls. “I’m only capable of loving one thing, you know, and that’s the game!”

The girl is gracious, and Keiji waits until she leaves to approach Bokuto, ready for their usual walk home.

“It’s a good thing you can’t fall in love with me, Akaashi,” Bokuto says jokingly when he sees them approach, holding up the envelope in his hands. “I’d hate to have to reject you.”

“Can’t I?”

Bokuto looks at them sharply, alarm painting his features, and Keiji keeps their expression neutral until he relaxes, laughing at their dry tone.

“Of course not! No one who knows me can.” 

There’s no trace of the arrogance that Keiji had seen in their first exchange anymore; there’s only a well-founded but fragile confidence in his ability, and he doesn’t seem to have any idea of the loyalty he has inspired in his friends. When he’s made captain, he panics, convinced he can’t deal with the extra responsibility. Keiji assures him that it’s no more pressure than being the ace, motivating his teammates to do better, and when they’re announced as his vice-captain, Bokuto relaxes completely.

“If you’re with me I know I’ll do great, Akaashi,” he tells them, and Keiji ignores the way their heart soars, dismissing it as pride in their own achievement. They accept Bokuto’s congratulatory hug, turning away from Konoha’s pointed look and huff of air. 

*

"Don't fall in love with me..."

It’s a plea that almost sounds desperate, mumbled against Keiji's mouth after a bottle of stolen sake. He's a third year now, and they won nationals, and their coach turned a blind eye just this once, because the whole team will be graduating soon, excepting Keiji and Onaga. It's not the first time they've kissed, but it is the second, and this time it feels like it could go somewhere - but there’s a condition.

_ Don’t fall in love with him. _

"Unlikely," Keiji mumbles, cupping the back of Bokuto's neck to bring him closer, solid and reassuring. Bokuto sighs, inexplicably relieved, and kisses them again, and Keiji tries to ignore the fact that they have made a promise they have already broken.

Bokuto graduates, but he keeps in touch, even through the mania of Keiji beginning their own university applications and Bokuto training to keep his scholarship. He meets Keiji outside their cram school, running halfway across the district to get there from practice, and he holds their hand as he walks them home, chattering on about his day. It’s not something a friend with benefits would do, but Bokuto’s plea sits heavy on Keiji’s shoulders, and even as they squeeze his hand and laugh at his jokes, they don’t allow themself to hope. When he kisses them outside their door Keiji chokes on their words every time, and no amount of water is enough to ease the itch in their throat. He never stays the night, and he never invites Keiji over, either, as if it’s a line they’re both reluctant to cross.

When Keiji’s own turn to graduate comes, Bokuto is there with their parents, flushed and beaming as he watches Keiji collect their scroll. Bokuto didn’t give them his button, so it’s foolish to entertain the thought of giving him theirs, but they do for a moment, toying with it until their mother takes them in her arms, squeezing them tightly as she tells them how proud she is. Keiji is going to Toudai - not because Bokuto is there, but because it’s a good university, and they worked hard on their studies so that they could be successful, and not so that they could be with him.

Keiji’s parents leave on a “couple’s vacation” that night, as much permission as they can give Keiji without saying so out loud, and Bokuto keeps them company, getting them off in the same bedroom they used to force Bokuto to study in. The two of them have been moving so achingly slowly towards this moment that it is over in an instant, and Keiji is embarrassed to find themself coming before Bokuto can even deliver on his promise of a blow job. Their chest heaves as they stare at the ceiling, throwing an arm over their eyes. When they can finally face him, Bokuto is laughing at them, eyes sparkling as he wiggles his messy fingers.

“These hands are magic,” Bokuto boasts. “Be careful or you’ll fall for them.”

He’s joking, and Keiji knows he is, but they hesitate for a second too long, the words on the tip of their tongue, caught up in the moment and their hormones. In an instant, Bokuto’s posture changes, hands freezing as his muscles coil, ready to spring away. Keiji wishes he would leap forwards instead.

They laugh.

“It’ll take a lot more practice before you can woo someone with that technique… It was good but clumsy; you’re lucky I’m only 18.” Bokuto pouts, but his shoulders relax, and Keiji is able to reach out for him, interlacing their fingers behind his neck and pulling him closer. “For now, let me return the favour…”

*

Nothing changes. Keiji attends college now, and they get more time together, but every touch is followed by a question, and Keiji finds it harder and harder to assure Bokuto of something they know is a lie. Their insults become harsher to compensate for the fondness with which compliments fall from their lips, and it pains Keiji to see Bokuto take the former more easily than the latter. 

“Why do you do this?” Keiji asks Bokuto one night, their hands holding his to still them against their zipper. Bokuto presses his nose into Keiji's throat, inhales deeply, and smiles. He smells like sake and sweat, one round of drink too many with his teammates after practice, tucked away in the storage rooms so that no one will find their prized athletes succumbing to such weaknesses. 

“You're sensible, ‘Kaashi, so you're safe,” he mumbles. He is so sure of his disjointed logic that for a second it almost makes sense, even to Keiji. “You’re too sensible to fall in love with me, so I can rely on you more than anyone else. I’m not gonna hurt you by being… me.”

_ This hurts me _ , Keiji thinks, but that is not Bokuto’s fault; it’s their own. They are sabotaging themself with each encounter, and before long it will be too late for them to escape at all.

*

“Is Bokuto single? You’re friends with him, right?”

One of their classmates corners them after study group, a pretty girl with a thick, wavy ponytail, and Keiji has no reason to dislike her, but their guard is up all the same. 

“Why are you asking me..?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I like him, but I don’t want to make a fool of myself. He’s so confident and so energetic all the time… It takes guts to be trans on a sports team, and he’s so cheerful about it! I don’t want him to laugh at me.”

Bokuto’s mood swings are kept off the court, now; his new teammates won’t allow it, and he wants to be taken seriously. Keiji’s brow feels heavy, thinking,  _ you don’t know him _ .

“We don’t talk about that sort of thing,” Keiji says, a blatant evasion even to their own ears, and they don’t blame her for pouting at him. “You’ll have to ask for yourself.”

*

They break over coffee and books. Bokuto is toying with Keiji’s fingers, trying to distract them from their coursework so that he doesn’t have to work on his own, and his touch is so casual, so familiar and yet so achingly distant that Keiji grabs his hand without thinking, squeezing until they can hear Bokuto’s knuckles pop.

“This has to stop.” Bokuto’s eyes are wide and helpless, looking between their hands and Keiji’s ashen face without comprehension.

“What…?”

“I have always been a practical person, Bokuto-san. Even though I won’t compromise on my gender or sexuality, I will take the surest path to success and happiness every time. And yet after so many years, I have not been able to ask myself why I am wasting my time and emotions on a relationship that can’t possibly go anywhere.”

Bokuto laughs, strangled. “This isn’t-- We’re not--”

“We  _ are _ , Bokuto-san, and I don’t think you really thought otherwise. You know me as well as I know you, so if you genuinely believed me when I said I couldn’t love you, you were kidding yourself as much as I was. It’s too late, I broke my promise before I even made it.”

“You - you love me?” Bokuto’s voice is hushed and hoarse, and then his expression darkens, swallowing to clear his throat. “No, you  _ promised _ .”

“I lied.” For a confession, Keiji’s voice is oddly devoid of emotion. They feel as if they are floating above themself, cut free from the rope that tethered them to the ground for so long. Their head spins with vertigo. “I think it is impossible not to love you, Bokuto-san - at least for me. I can’t meet your demands or expectations, and I am unable to lie to you or myself any longer.”

“I have to go,” Bokuto says, but Keiji has already stood up, notebook shoved efficiently into their bag. 

“I’ll save you the trouble,” they say, and this is where their voice breaks, looking at a Bokuto who is torn between shame and anger - who feels no joy in their words, nothing like the fantasies they had entertained themself with over the years. “I’m sorry for lying for so long, and I’m sorry that I can’t any longer.”

*

Keiji has never predicted Bokuto's actions so poorly before. It had seemed simple - give Bokuto time to process what they had said, and he would realise that he had nothing to fear from them. He would reach out, and Keiji could apologise for snapping, and they would either resume things as they had been meant to be, or… find a way to continue as friends. They had prepared themself for both outcomes; what they hadn't prepared for was Bokuto not contacting them at all. 

Keiji doesn’t know what stings more - the lack of contact or that they hadn’t anticipated it. After three days they find themself reaching for their phone, half-formed texts itching at their thumbs, but they refrain. If Keiji makes the first move they will take it back, and they would only fall back into bad habits. Their outburst, as untimely as it had been, was about self-preservation. They can’t allow themself to get stuck in that place again.

So they wait. A week turns into two, and Bokuto is nowhere to be seen. He has to be avoiding them, because Keiji hasn’t changed their routine - other than being alone - and they share regular social spots. Keiji lurks by the volleyball courts, embarrassed by their own hesitation, and when Bokuto’s teammates notice them they nudge each other and whisper, retreating into the locker room. Somehow, Bokuto never emerges.

Keiji is glad, if bitter, that Bokuto has allies. They wonder if it would be worth asking them to pass on a message - but they’re not children anymore, and the thought of resorting to passing notes makes their stomach twist. Bokuto doesn’t seem to be giving them an alternative, though, and as they’re going into the third week they swallow their pride and block the exit to the locker rooms, their arms folded.

“I’m sorry, but you must know that this is ridiculous. I won’t leave until I see him,” they say, their cheeks burning. They feel like a protagonist in a romcom, but they keep their voice cool - Keiji has always been wary of tall men that they don’t know, and they refuse to show vulnerability. Bokuto’s teammates exchange awkward glances, shifting on their feet, and Keiji’s mask breaks a little. “Please.”

“He’s still in practice,” One of them folds, a sympathetic hand falling on Keiji’s shoulder. “Time to use that infinite patience of yours.”

Keiji snorts, because of course  _ that’s  _ what Bokuto’s teammates know them for, when it’s their lack of patience that got them into this situation in the first place. It isn’t patience that keeps them waiting for two more hours, but desperation; that, combined with a raging stubbornness. When Bokuto finally slinks out of the locker rooms, his shoulders are hunched, eyes downcast, and Keiji knows that he took longer than he ordinarily would have.

“Where have you been?” Keiji speaks more harshly than intended, and when Bokuto flinches they do too, immediately taking a step back to give him space. They brace themself for him to run, holding onto their knuckles like an anchor to keep them from chasing him - now that they’re finally facing each other, the decision is his to reject them. “I’m sorry.”

Bokuto shakes his head. “I deserved that - not the snapping…” he interrupts himself when Keiji makes to object on his behalf, “I just mean I get why you’re not super calm right now. I’m...sorry for avoiding you.”

“Are you?”

Bokuto laughs this time, cheeks flushing as he rubs the back of his neck guiltily. “A little. Not as much as I should be, probably.” He peers at Keiji, nervous beneath his eyelashes.

Keiji sighs. They have a million things they want to say, and a lot of them begin with  _ yes, of course I’m mad _ , but they don’t have the energy to be anything but relieved that Bokuto is standing in front of them right now; that he hasn’t left yet and that he’s meeting their gaze.

“Let’s go somewhere,” they say, walking ahead of Bokuto. He follows, and Keiji allows their own fingers to release the hold they have on each other.

Campus is unusually silent in the lull between late afternoon studying and evening socialisation, and Keiji doesn’t have the will to break it, running through so many possible outcomes in their head - and then some more, because they have already been wrong once. Eventually they find a bench and sit together, hands almost touching and eyes fixed straight ahead, barely able to focus on the fountain in front of them.

Water falls in tiers, pooling in the basin and then pulled back up again, seamless. Keiji counts one cycle.

“I’m sorry for how I spoke to you… I can’t apologise for how I felt - how I feel,” Keiji begins, gripping the edge of the bench. “I didn’t think that you would run for this long.”

“Yeah, well, I’m an idiot.” 

Bokuto is still looking straight ahead when Keiji glares daggers at him, but he grimaces anyway, and Keiji thinks he must know.

“No, you’re not. You have been, but you’re not inherently stupid. You were afraid. I don’t know why you were, but that’s a perfectly reasonable reaction, even if it was unpleasant for me.”

It’s cold outside, and Bokuto’s sigh is visible as a puff of condensation. He’s laughing, but his eyes look wet even as they crease at the corners.

“You’re always so kind to me, Akaashi… How did I not realise? You’re not like anyone else - but maybe more of it - and I took advantage of that.”

“What?”

The bench shakes as Bokuto stretches his legs out, kicking the air vigorously. “I don’t know why you don’t get it, Akaashi, I’m a disappointment! Anyone who’s loved me has loved - I don’t know, the me on the court, or from a distance, or whatever, and as soon as they realise there’s more to me, and that that more is  _ this _ much of a mess, they’ll be hurt and disappointed, and they’ll leave. I thought I was safe with you because you’d seen it all but - somewhere you still got tricked - and I  _ can’t _ disappoint you, ‘Kaashi, I can’t hurt you when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

He hasn’t looked at them once, staring angrily at his knees instead of facing them while he speaks, but Keiji can’t look away, their grip on the bench painful as they listen to him. Bokuto exhales, lips wet and trembling, chest heaving from the outburst, and the water continues to fall.

“I take it back. You  _ are  _ an idiot.”

“Akaashi-!”

“No, listen to me. You thought I was different because I  _ knew you better _ , so I couldn’t possibly love you, and your conclusion when I come to love you is that I don’t know you rather than that I might know you and love you for it? That’s ridiculous. Did you ever think about asking me? And if you didn’t want to hurt me, having sex with me whilst making me promise not to love you was absolutely the worst way to go about that - and so was running away at my confession.”

Finally Bokuto is looking at them, mouth open and eyes wide. He opens his mouth - no doubt to apologise, but Keiji holds up a hand - they have kept too much back for too long, and there is no stopping them now.

“I understand why you ran away, why you were afraid, but it’s still a stupid reason. I’ve witnessed every single one of your eccentricities, the ones you think people hate you for, and I  _ love _ you for them. I’m not the only one, either. I still love you even now, when you’re being an absolute asshole, trying to ‘protect’ me from something I’m not only prepared for but actively  _ willing _ to engage with.”

“Me…?” Bokuto barely gets the word out, something between a gasp and a whisper, and Keiji rolls their eyes.

“Yes, you. That’s what I said from the start. That’s how I got myself in this mess, promising not to love you when I already did, because I wanted to be with the man who made me make ridiculous, unmaintainable promises.”

“ _ Akaashi--” _ Bokuto is shaking all over. Keiji pries their own fingertips from the bench, pushing themself closer to Bokuto, and when their arms open he falls into them, hiding his face in their shoulder. Keiji isn’t sure if he’s sobbing, or if he’s just unable to process their words and face them, but they are willing to wait. They stroke his back, fingers finding the tension in his shoulders and digging into the knots.

“I’m the one who decides what I’m able to deal with, Bokuto, not you. And you decide the same. If you don’t want me by your side, I can accept that, but you can’t decide whether I want to be there. I never thought being with you was going to be easy; I just wanted to do it anyway.”

Bokuto nods into their shoulder, and then shakes his head, and then shivers, sitting up and wiping his nose. He’s a mess - more of a mess than he has ever been in the five years that they’ve known each other - and Keiji has never been more in love with him.

“I love you, Akaashi,” he says, their name butchered between hiccups, and Keiji finally feels the freshness of the air around them. They smile.

“I love you too.”

“I’m afraid.”

“I know. There’s no easy solution to that. What if - for now - I make you a promise I can keep?”

Bokuto’s nod is small, and he reaches for Keiji’s hand, rubbing his calloused thumbs over their knuckles, the way they do to soothe themself. It’s familiar and endearing.

“I promise to set my own boundaries,” Keiji tells him, “so you can focus on figuring out yours instead. How does that sound?”

Bokuto inhales; exhales. The fountain collects water from its basin to spill from its top again. He nods.

“That sounds good.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [twitter](http://twitter.com/raindryad) and [tumblr](http://deciduice.tumblr.com).


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